


Nirvana

by theotherdesanta



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: 2009?, Dancing, F/M, M/M, Michael is a bitter asshole, dream dancing, pre gta v, stage, trash dad - Freeform, weird dreamy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: Michael has a drug induced hallucination thanks to an alternation to his meds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No idea why I did this, I was supposed to be getting a new chapter done for Sharmoota but I lack the thinking capacity to do anything else right now, which probably explains why my brain wanted to come up with this heap of poop. 
> 
> To put it simply, mostly because my head is just ruined, I was listening to Sam Smiths "Nirvana" and for a long long time I've always had this image of Michael in my head where he's dancing with Trevor in this big room, and finally I found the song that matched it so I was able to put it into words. 
> 
> So listen to the song, read this, and see what I mean.   
> And if you still cant...I'm sorry. 
> 
> As always, I love you, like and comment, and I apologise if some pieces are messed up or not clear, like Michael I'm on a combo of meds, I'm also ridiculously stressed for various reasons so bear with me here. 
> 
> Okay, I'll catch you all later, thank you guys for the kudos on the first chapter of Sharmoota, I promise to update soon and for it to be heading in a very adorable and trash daddy direction. 
> 
> PIECE! L to the M to the OUT!

_He considers this dissociation the effect of his newly altered prescription medication, the cheaply manufactured over-the-counter antidepressants, Viagra and mood suppressors swapped for a stronger combination of the three, guaranteed to offer him brighter positives and fewer negatives on terms to bodily reactions._

_Michael reclines into the recently acquired tan leather armchair with a quiet chuckle, nuzzling the side of his head against the padded side of the headrest and allow his eyes to slant tiredly whilst the image before him expands beyond the dull, flickering black and white cinematic blob of moving shapes._

_A light-headed dizziness fills the corners of his unfocused and rose tinted consciousness, the feeling is almost blissful as the narcotics transport his imagination to the back row of an abandoned theatre, where he, apart from the two on stage preforming a type of interpretive waltz, is the sole witness to the show, sits beside a rolling projector, though the characters are living people and have no requirement for any sort of artificial light or cinematic extras._

_The background is nothing but an oversized photograph of snowy farmland complete with pine tree cardboard cut-outs painted white for that gaudy sense of pantomime realism and a hurriedly put together farmhouse constructed of shipped red wood board and white tape to act as the foundation stripes._

_Above the actors are several large bags of fake snow with obvious knife holes punctured into the fabric, offering the illusion that is it drifting to the ground, yet the way the flakes pour through the holes like water has Michael wanting to suggest they run out to fetch a very large icing sifter and use that, preferring to watch various stage members struggle to handle an impossibly large baking tool than actors dance beneath a steady pour of paper._

_Music begins to surround the loft area of the theater, his damaged hearing cannot pick up the words at this distance, yet the tune seems to sum up perfectly what the actors dancing on state are attempting to portray._

_The two in question are two men, one standing at 6'2, his partner around 5'11, 6'0 at a stretch, or if he were to be wearing shoes carrying a mild wedge, however, the second male is not, in fact, he is wearing no shoes at all, nor is he wearing pants, under-yes, underwear, a white button down shirt and sock garters, from where Michael is sitting, he can tell the man has short, close cut brown hair, appearing near black if caught by the shadows of the set, he is considerably larger than the other, but not fat, no, bordering fat yet is still defined enough to be seen as appealing._

_The taller performer is thinner and perhaps, if Michael dare admit, carries a much more structurally sound build, he is lanky in some areas, and strong in others, his shoulders for one, are bulging with muscle which he suspects travel around to his back and cascade down his body until they reach the curve of what is presumably a fine ass, his legs are something to look at too, sculpted nicely by the outfit he currently has framing every delicious inch of flesh on his person._

_He, the tall one, stands clad in a greying white T-shirt and pants with suspenders, tufts of frosted black hair adorning his head._

_Opposite to his partner, he wears a pair of worn industrial boots that glide effortlessly across the floor as he throws himself toward the other male, capturing him by the forearm and using the other to bend the lower part upwards to clasp his hand._

_The shorter man entwines his fingers with his partners and they stride in time with each other's movements, forming a circle as they stare longingly, eyes locked on their counterparts face._

_Michael watches their hands untangle and the fatter male turn to start walking away, the taller actor quickly snatches at his wrist and twirls his partner around and then pulls him into his chest, there is a struggle and suddenly the man is violently shaking his partner, teeth bared as he mimes foul words which drive's the other to push him away, with enough force he lets go and the fatter one scampers away, however, stops midway, before he can reach the red farmhouse._

_He looks over his shoulder and sees his friend has both hands snatching at his hair, creating the image of regret and heartache as he stands in the middle of the stage, the one main light shining down on him._

_Michael's heart knocks against his ribs as he makes the connection between those on stage, though he is currently high from the medication, he is painfully aware of what is unfolding in front of him as he witnesses the dark haired dancer stumble up to his partner and weakly pinches the cuff of his sleeve, appearing to sob with a hand over his eyes._

_To his relief, the other takes pity and fully turns to meet him, they walk on tiptoe back to the centre and begin another dance routine that seems to symbolise the renewal of what Michael thinks is a romance that the first person has taken too fast for his lover to be comfortable and stay, or done something to scare him away._

_There is a scene where the man who once appeared to be upset is now throwing his lover away, stomping in a half circle whilst the fatter actor spins, close to falling into the bundle of cardboard tree cut-outs._

_He doesn't, caught at the last moment by the other's hand and yanked off the ground into his arms, the two of them passionately kiss as the dark haired male holds his lover up, with a little help from the large one by him having wrapped both legs around his waist._

_Michael licks his own lips as they've become dry to the bone, his fingers claw at the arms of his seat as he is unable to do anything but wait for the two men to complete their interpretive dance to understand what becomes of them and their whirlwind of a romance._

_Some part of him, if he is entirely honest, doesn't wish to know as he has a pretty good idea of where these men are going to wind up, but, then again, where their story ends is exactly what he feels he needs to know right now._

_Whether it is a happy, or sad ending, Michael, for whatever reason, feels compelled to see this through and be shown that which is to come, if there is anything at all._

_His face softens to the image of the two leaving the stage, still in a tight embrace, both lovingly wound into the other as they continue their journey in what he thinks must be another part of the stage yet to be revealed._

_There isn't, and in the blink of an eye the entire production shuts down, plunging Michael into darkness._

_Somewhere in the pitch blackness of the theater, there is the sound of a single gunshot, and one of the men screaming to find cover._

_He doesn't have time to react as the cold sting of a hand on his chest pulls Michael from his drug induced slumber_  
\---

“Really? I find you asleep again!” He is met with the bitter glare of his yoga obsessed wife. “I know we were told to expect this with the medication, but you could do a little more to stay up” 

His dream interrupted, Michael feels nothing but contempt in the shadow of someone so self-oriented they put his personal struggles on the bottom of their list of things to give a shit about. 

“Yeah well, I did try, but knowing I'd have you coming home this afternoon and my level of patience being lower than it usually is, I felt a nap might help me deal with the narcissistic cow I have to look at every day. You know” 

His venom laced reply catches her off guard, a rare occasion in the De Santa household but he dubs it a victory nonetheless.   
“...Fuck you, Michael” She tries to fight against the uneven crack in her tone, clutching the small pink weight in her hand a little harder she forces out a breath and just scowls as she flings her arm back and comes back to launch the item into his stomach.

Having done that, she marches into the kitchen, living him to wince in pain at the metal object now set to leave a nasty bruise on the lower half of his belly. 

“Dumb bitch” 

the end

**Author's Note:**

> Just putting this note here because I know the ending might be a little nasty, but the story is set pre-gta v at the height of Mike and Amanda's marriage going south, this is like, when they're in the middle of hating each other and there's still things they can say to each other that hurts them. 
> 
> Also I think when he was younger, Mike was just a real piece of work, and I mean, you know, all types of nasty, to his wife. He just strikes me as that asshole who would wake up from a dream and say the worst type of shit to his partner because they ruined a really nice moment for him. 
> 
> Oki imma go now. byeeee


End file.
